Page 56 of Angel Eyes

“Sorry, but have you met your head hostess? She’s more likely to pimp me out than the other way around. She might be tiny, but she’s a force to be reckoned with.”

The elevator doors slid open again on to a magnificent view of the city, the silvery patchwork of zinc rooftops spanning out beyond enormous wrap-around windows and blending seamlessly with the overcast sky. Sidestepping a pair of construction workers removing a large swath of old carpet, we moved through the main dining room, passing beneath the floral motif on the latticed painted ceiling before pedaling up a short flight of steps to a second dining area, its recently refinished wood-paneled walls gleaming in the afternoon light.

“Ah, Mr. Alarie, if you can spare a moment, you must come and try this.”

I spotted Edward Campbell, the restaurant’s sommelier, standing beside a glass display case, holding a bottle of uncorked wine, his rounded belly peeking out from beneath his suit.

“Genius idea to display some of the wine collection in the dining room.” He offered me a half-filled glass of white. “This is our most recent acquisition. If you’re amenable to the idea, I would like to include it as part of our tasting menu. I think it would pair nicely with a good shellfish or a full-flavored cheese.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Campbell,” Caleb said, his eyes darting wildly back and forth. “We are due for an appointment with—”

“He can wait another minute.” I lifted the glass, holding it up to the light and examining the brilliant golden yellow before bringing it to my nose. “Very fresh. Is that apricot?”

“And peach.” He lifted his wobbly chin, his face glowing with pride. “Underpinning an aroma of gunflint and menthol. Go ahead, try it. You’ll find it has a refreshing finish—”

“Monsieur Alarie, there you are.”

I turned in time to see the rotund figure of Remy Gauthier cresting the stairs with an irritated-looking Amélie trailing in his wake.

“It’s a fine selection, Mr. Campbell,” I said, returning the glass to him. “Let’s talk it over with the chef when he arrives tomorrow.”

“Very good, sir.” He threw a look over my shoulder, a frown pulling at his brows. “If you need me, I’ll be in the wine cellar.” He beat a hasty retreat, and I pressed my eyes shut for a moment as heavy footfalls closed in behind me. I turned to face the source.

“Bon après-midi, Monsieur Gauthier. So good of you to come.”

“Yes, and as I’m sure you can appreciate, I am a busy man.” He dabbed his forehead with a handkerchief, his face glistening with sweat. “Couldn’t we have discussed this over the phone?”

“I’m afraid not. But don’t worry, this should only take a minute.” I glanced at Amélie as she drew up beside Caleb, hugging her clipboard as she glared at the man in front of me. “My assistant manager has informed me you submitted a request to push back the opening date. Is that correct?”

A trickle of unease slid across his features as his eyes darted to Caleb.

“I did,” he said, his voice taking on an oily texture, “but only by a month or so. As I explained to him, it’s an issue with the lighting fixtures. The pendant lights have been delivered, but the crystal chandeliers are proving to be a bit more difficult to obtain.”

“Is that so? Because we presented you with multiple options at the outset of the project. Am I to understand that you have not been able to secure any of them?”

He chuckled nervously, hooking a finger into his tie to loosen it. “Monsieur Alarie, I’m sure a businessman such as yourself can appreciate the supply issues we all must contend with in this post-pandemic world. I might be able to get them in time, but as a precautionary measure—”

“Allow me to make myself perfectly clear.” I stepped into his personal space, letting my six-foot-three frame tower over him. “We will not be changing the opening date because the work will be completed within the agreed-upon time frame, as per your contract.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he retreated a step. “Monsieur Alarie, you have to understand, sometimes these things can happen—”

“Not to me, they don’t.” I leaned forward, dropping my voice to a low hiss. “Especially not when I discovered there was a mistake on the original purchase order signed by one Remy Gauthier.” He blanched, his mouth falling open as my lips curled in a sneer. “You came highly recommended by some of the best establishments in Paris, which is why I paid you a small fortune to ensure the construction was completed by the end of July.”

Straightening, I withdrew a pocket knife from my jacket, delight spooling in my chest as the remaining color drained from his face. I flicked the blade open, giving him a lingering look before using it to clean my fingernails.

“I would caution you not to mistake my youth for weakness, Monsieur Gauthier. I should hate for anything unfortunate to happen to your … reputation.”

He spluttered, fisting his hands at his sides. “Are you threatening me?”

“Why would I threaten you? I have the utmost confidence you will do everything in your power to see the work is completed as originally scheduled.” I closed the knife with a snap, my eyes narrowing. “Won’t you?”

His mouth slackened, his beady eyes darting around as if in search of rescue. But there would be no rescue. Not a single soul on earth could save him from me if he fucked up this opening.

He swallowed audibly. “I’ll see that it is done.”

“Excellent.” I clapped him roughly on the shoulder before casting a look at my employees. Without a word, they followed me from the room and down a long, carpeted hallway, its dark walls lined with brass sconces and framed food critic reviews.

Caleb drew up beside me. “Have I ever told you I want to be you when I grow up?”

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